A Young Dove

Ambition lusts,

with a fierce tongue,

the one who fell from Heaven.

Oh, how he stalks the holy grounds,

Enlightenment from a hellish source, he hounds.

The emerald eyes mask thy sacred chains,

a piece of angel and hellfire marks thy mortal vains.

A young dove, you have entered,

a burning glory, departed.

Tis to see, your Church, in which thy soul served,

however, never returned

such favour to thee.

You have watched the sky rip open,

from up so high,

yet you grew wings

and it was your Father's prayer you cried.

But, that hidden voice,

a darker tone I sensed,

that promised mortal choice,

in which your immortal role was your expense.

Thus, you became

as two faced as the Moon,

from the morning rise

and the set of noon.

And so, within the city of gold,

let them pray for heaven to lets you in,

because they will remember you for your youthful soul,

and not the daring devil within.